Breaking up Vegas
by Jacinda
Summary: Post Mea Culpa: Sara decides that it's time more than just the team is broken up - it's time for her to break up with Las Vegas. Grissom Angst - no relationships


I asked Eckley to move me to days or swing shift. I knew Nick and Warrick weren't excited about the lateral move in their careers; I knew Sophia was pissed beyond what I thought was humanly possible . . . she was the only one being demoted. I wanted to be moved; I was the one that needed the fresh start. I wasn't excited about working under Catherine, but it couldn't possibly be worse than working under Grissom.

"Sara, hey there," Eckley said. He plastered that stupid grin on his face. I was surprised that he approached me in the locker room; it was a more public venue than I expected.

"Eckley, have you looked at my . . .," I started. I trailed off when I saw Grissom standing in the doorway behind Eckley.

"Your request. I did. You should go home and start packing . . . I talked to some people in Chicago. You can have whatever shift you want," Eckley said. I knew he wasn't oblivious to the fact that Grissom was right there. Grissom's face paled slightly, but he still had that damn stoic blankness plastered on his face. I wanted him to feel something for me; I wanted anger or disappointment. It hurt more that he gave me nothingness. I wondered if that's what I was to him . . . nothing.

"Chicago?" I asked. I quickly tried to compose myself. I had expected to have my request turned down; I had expected to have to work with Grissom until I was ready to retire. Part of me knew that Chicago could be really good for me; another part was afraid of leaving one of the only places that I felt comfortable calling home.

"Feel free to take your paid vacation time to pack. They're excited about having you there. You should call Elaine . . . she wants to see how quickly you can move out there. Sara, you'll love the Windy City," Eckley said as he handed me a business card. I readily accepted it. We were being broken up; I think we had begun to break up a few months ago. Maybe it was some time after Debbie Marlin; it was sometime after Grissom shut me out. Then it was me against the world; I knew I was reckless . . . I knew I was a ticking time bomb. Maybe I did need something more than just a change of shift . . . maybe I really needed a change in scenery.

"When does my time start?" I asked.

"Go home. Pack. Send a post card from Chicago," Eckley said as he turned around . . . nearly knocking Grissom over in the process. Grissom didn't flinch.

"When did things start getting so bad that you couldn't even talk to me?" Grissom asked. He sat down on the bench next to me. My stomach was churning; I didn't want to be having this conversation. If I had to leave, I wish I could have left in the night without the uncomfortable good-byes. I didn't know what I was supposed to say to him.

"I can't remember the last time they were good," I replied. They hadn't been good. There were few things that I found pleasurable anymore. The only thing I liked about work was teaching Greg; that's the only reason that I put down the bottle to come to work. I blamed Grissom for all my problems. I think almost everyone knew that Grissom was talking about me when he confronted the man that killed Debbie Marlin. Good news always did circulate around the lab fast. Everyone started to look at me differently; I would always be second best . . . he loved his career so much more than me. That's when it all started. Something changed in me and something changed in Grissom.

"Sara, don't go," Grissom said. I think that was his last appeal; it was the weakest one that he could muster. I think he did want me to go; I was only hired here to investigate the murder of Holly Gribbs. What was supposed to take one week ended up taking nearly three and a half years.

"You don't mean that," I replied. I was surprised that I had said that. I was thinking that, but I didn't think that it would come out of my mouth.

"I do mean that, Sara. What can I say to make you believe me?" Grissom asked.

"It isn't what you say, Grissom . . . you could have shown me," I replied. I was getting mad now. _Too little, too late, Grissom, I thought._

"How can I make it right?" Grissom asked. I still couldn't see any conviction on his face.

"I think it's a little too late to start making things right," I replied.

"It's cold in Chicago," Grissom commented. It couldn't possibly be as cold as it was in this conference room.

"I know, but somehow you've managed to make Vegas colder than any other place I've ever been," I replied.

"Is it still the promotion thing with you and Nicky?" Grissom inquired. I hoped he was acting dumb because I couldn't fathom him being that clueless.

"No, it's you and it's me. It's the way you look right through me . . . it's the way you force me to work with you and then decide not to keep me filled in on the case. Grissom, it's about oil and water," I yelled at him as I stood up and opened my locker. I hastily began to grab the few possessions that I wanted to bring with me.

"Then it's about work?" Grissom asked to clarify.

"No, why can't you understand? I can deal with rejection . . . that's nothing new for me. I can't deal with someone that claimed to care about me then starts treating me with nothing less than apathy," I yelled. He had pushed me over the ledge; there was no way that I would be able to contain my emotions now.

"Sara, I never intended for it to get this bad," Grissom said. It wasn't the 'sorry' or the 'I do care about you' that I was looking for. I didn't even know if I wanted that anymore.

"It did, Grissom. I'm leaving," I said as I threw my bag over my shoulder and handed him my service revolver.

"Sara, if I told you that I wanted beauty back in my life . . . would you stay?" Grissom asked. He hadn't moved from the bench.

"No, because beauty isn't enough for me anymore . . . I need something that I know you will never be able to give me," I replied.

"What's that?" Grissom asked. He lowered his head to the floor.

"The part of yourself that you for some reason feel the need to keep locked away. Good luck, Grissom. Tell Greg that I'll call," I said as I left the locker room with a strange sense of liberation that I hadn't had since the day after Holly Gribbs died. It didn't feel good; it didn't make me feel whole, but I felt something other than contempt for myself. I felt something other than a worthlessness that drove me to drink; I felt like a person again. There was some freedom that came with liberation, but I wondered if someday that would fade to thoughts of past regrets.

I continued walking to my car. Chicago might be freezing, but I hoped that it wouldn't maintain the cold, hard attitude that I had somehow acquired in Vegas. I turned to say good-bye. I was saying good-bye to so much more than a lab . . . I was saying good-bye to a part of myself that I had come to hate. It was a part of myself that was cultured in the very building that I had been standing in a few minutes ago. It was time to move on; it was time for me to rebuild all that had been broken over the course of four and a half years. It was time for me to break up with Vegas.

FIN


End file.
